


Conversations With My Father

by Brendan_Rendering



Series: My Original Poems [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Poetry, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brendan_Rendering/pseuds/Brendan_Rendering
Summary: An original poem
Series: My Original Poems [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174160





	Conversations With My Father

The days spent walking  
Pointing out birds  
wheeling across Summer skies  
in familiar fields  
And on far away moors

I learnt the important lessons  
Nature, geography, history, kindness  
I can name the birds and the trees  
I appreciate those years  
Knowing now what I didn't realise then  
They were the most important of days.

Stories of his childhood,  
The younger years,  
How times have changed,  
Memories clear despite the passing time  
Talking about meaningful songs  
I still listen to them now.

History and culture  
Where we came from  
My bloodline stretching back  
Through the generations  
I didn't realise  
What made me who I am

Remembering times of childhood  
A strong hand on a bike seat  
Safety as I learned, security.  
Now unable to hold a cup

He told me  
“You never know how many more  
tomorrow's you'll get.”  
I held onto that  
He dealt with his diagnosis  
better than I did.

The memories flooding in  
Now with the midnight silence  
regrets rolling in, the years swept away  
like waves on the shore

What I would trade now  
For one more conversation  
One more walk in the wilderness  
One more day with my father

The confusion breaks the heart  
He doesn't know who I am now  
No memory of his youngest  
Calls me by my brother's names

He awoke at midnight  
Wanted to get up  
I sat with him in the dark  
Told him it wasn't time

There was so much I wanted to say  
But I told him I loved him  
Before he fell asleep  
It was the final time

Lying in the dark  
Listening to the rhythmic breathing  
Of the machine in the corner  
Unnatural, yet the consistency soothes

I awake with the silence  
Sudden, it cuts through my dreams  
The machine has stopped  
The breathing has stopped  
I lie in confusion  
Then I realise

There will be no more hugs  
No more stories  
No more imparted wisdom  
No more conversations  
With my father.

And every now and then  
I think of something  
I'd like to say to him  
Another conversation  
With my father  
I can never have


End file.
